A Present Misconstrued
by Casa Circe
Summary: Father Christmas tries to teach Dilandau a lesson. Unfortunately for the old fellow, this plan backfires on him in more ways than one.


A Present Misconstrued

Disclaimer: I do not have the rights to Dilandau or to "Escaflowne" or even to Santa Clause. But I'd like to share the Christmas spirit in my own silly, little way.

Note: I've had this ridiculous idea on my mind for years now but I've only been motivated (and crazy) enough to write it all down today. It's been a while since my last Dilandau story and I'm fairly certain this will do him justice. I had a lot of fun writing this. I hope you enjoy this little piece of madness that I'm sharing on 12-12-12.

Happy holidays!

"There's a package for you, sir," one of the young Dragonslayers announced.

The young soldier had to quickly step out of the way as a knife flew past him and hit the improvised dartboard on the wall which had a picture of General Adelphos on it.

"Really?" replied a bored voice, "Who from?"

The soldier gulped nervously, anticipating his superior's wrath. But he could hardly be blamed for the mysterious arrival of the package. He was simply a messenger. Not that that made any difference to Captain Dilandau Albatou of Zaibach.

"It doesn't say, sir," he replied, almost in a whisper. The soldier then closed his eyes and waited for the blow to come. To his surprise, nothing happened.

Daring to open his eyes again, he saw that the silver-haired captain was not even looking at him but instead was glaring at the window, where he had a good view of the constant snowfall outside the flying fortress. He seemed to have completely forgotten about the soldier's presence.

"I hate this time of year," Dilandau grumbled, "this horrid, cold weather, snow all over the place, no training sessions outdoors, hardly any battles. Bo-ring."

Absent-mindedly, he threw another knife at his dartboard and it hit the target without him even looking at it.

"It's the perfect excuse to light as many fires as possible," Dilandau continued to rant, "but then of course, they won't let me, the bastards. So I'm stuck here, cooped up in this miserable hole, with nothing to do. Bored, bored, bored."

Each utterance of the word "bored" was followed by a dagger being thrown at the already mutilated picture of General Adelphos. The soldier remained still and dared not comment or interrupt this tirade. He was lucky that he had stumbled on Dilandau in a good mood (for that was what this was) and that he was still miraculously in one piece.

"And to make this worse is all this repulsive cheeriness," Dilandau ranted on, "ugh, all these people going around, laughing, smiling, and enjoying themselves like there was something special about this time of year. It's all a load of nonsense, if you ask me. The only celebrations I enjoy involve blood, gore, and good wine, a combination that people don't find acceptable for some stupid reason or other."

The captain gave another groan of exasperation before turning to look at the fidgeting soldier.

"Remind again me why you're here," Dilandau asked in an uninterested tone, "I couldn't be bothered to care."

"It was just to say that there's a package arrived for you, sir," the soldier repeated nervously.

"Well, well, where is it then?" the captain demanded impatiently.

"It's, um, a rather large package, sir," the soldier explained, "and it's down the hall."

Dilandau rolled his eyes and got up from his chair sulkily.

"This better not be one of Folken's ridiculous ideas," the officer warned as he followed the soldier, "the last time he tried to get me in the holiday spirit I had to endure a whole evening with idiotic soldiers from all over Gaea. I am not going through that again."

After a short walk down one of the metal halls of the fortress, the soldier gestured to what seemed like a mountain of coal. Dilandau stared at it in awe and a mischievous glint in his blood-red eyes.

"Excellent," he said sinisterly, "and who did this come from?"

"It doesn't say, sir, but it certainly wasn't from anyone in Zaibach," the soldier explained, "it just appeared here out of nowhere this morning, with a card addressed to you, sir."

"Hmm, let me see it," Dilandau said, and the soldier gave him the card.

It read:

"To Dilandau Albatou of the Copper Army of the Zaibach Empire:

I'm sorry to say you've been Very Naughty this year."

And there was no signature. Dilandau turned the card over and then shrugged. At this point, the sender no longer interested him because he was much more engrossed with the present. He took a good, long look at the mountainous pile of coal and already a plan was forming in his head.

"Well, whoever you are," the captain of the Dragonslayers declared with a scheming smirk, "I'm about to be even naughtier."

Needless to say, Christmas at the Vione that year was a blast.


End file.
